The world will never know it
by Wielorybek
Summary: Sam saved the world, and the world will never know it. Dean saved his brother soul. But everything comes with a price. AU after s06 "Like a Virgin". Sick!Sam, Caring!Mother hen!Dean, brotherly love. No slash. WARNING: sensitive medical content, disability. DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything. I'm not a doctor or any medical proffesional, I don't live in the US, so licentia poetica.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Dean woke up this morning, as always, at 7 am. His back were hurting a bit after another night spent at an old couch, whose springs were piercing through the cushions and, in consequence, to the Dean's body. He didn't think about it though; the minute he woke up all his thoughts were focused on someone else.

His brother, Sam.

He was still sleeping peacefully in a hospital-style bed by the wall, his chest was rising and falling in a steady rhythm of deep breaths. He seemed ok; Dean felt like he could breathe too.

Dean silently got out from the bed and went to the bathroom to take a quick, hot shower. He didn't close the bathroom door – he was keeping it always open these days. He wanted to be sure that he would hear his brother, in case he called for him; also, it's not like they have any secrets or embarrassment towards themselves anyway. Not anymore, not in this situation.

Hot water was amazing, but Dean made the shower quick. They had to watch out for water and heat expenditure, and basically everything that cost money. Money became an issue really – they can't be on the road, so it's not safe to use false credit cards; same situation with pool game and any other gambling. Sam can't be left alone for longer than an hour, so Dean having a job wasn't an option either. They have to live on the sick and care allowance, which was barely enough for their basic needs – meds for Sam, doctors appointments, bills, some food, sometimes gas for the car to take Sam to the doctor or going for groceries. They couldn't really afford anything more than that, and Dean started running a notebook, where he wrote down all the expenses, so they can make it till next month.

Dean dry himself and quickly returned to the living room to check on Sam. He was still sleeping, but started to move and groan a little, and Dean knew that it won't be long before he wakes up.

He went to the kitchen and stated preparing some breakfast for both of them – scrambled eggs with avocado, yoghurt with oat flakes and apple chunks; a nourishing meal for a too-thin and too-weak little brother and tired, but still strong, older brother.

Dean? - that was Sam's voice coming from the living room.

Oh, hey buddy – said Dean with a soft voice, entering the room with a rubber in his hands. – Did you sleep well?

Yeah - said Sam. - I need to go to the bathroom – he added quietly, not looking at Dean.

Ok then – Dean threw the rubber on the sofa and took the wheelchair from the corner of the room and quickly approach to the bed. – It was time to get up anyway, Sleeping Beauty.

Dean grabbed his brother, placing one of his hands under the Sam's armpits and second one under his knees, and gently lowered his brother to the wheelchair.

Let's go! – ordered Dean merrily, already wheeling Sam towards the bathroom.

When they get there, Dean put the wheelchair next to the toilet seat, gently took off Sam's sweatpants and boxers and lifted his brother to the toilet seat, then placed Sam's right palm on a grip handler, so he would be stable during taking care of business. Dean stepped back and faced the mirror, giving Sam a little privacy, despite he didn't left the room.

Ok, I'm done – communicated Sam.

And they did it all again – transfer from the toilet to the wheelchair, pants up, washing hands.

It's time for breakfast, don't you think? – Dean asked his brother, trying to pull him in the conversation.

Sam nodded. He didn't became a very talkative person after what happened. He didn't like the sound of his own slurred speech and the fact that usually a little bit of saliva flowed from the corner of his mouth while talking. On the other hand, Dean was talking almost all the time, trying to cheer up his little brother, trying to build an impression of normal life. Cos' this _is_ their normal life now.

I've got a delicious scrambled eggs with avocado, I now you like it – said Dean, not giving up. – Unless you want something else? Hm?

No, eggs are fine. – answered Sam, looking at his knees.

In the kitchen Dean moved the wheelchair to the table and started cooking, making coffee in the meantime.

A few second later a mug of hot coffee with milk and sugar landed in front of Sam.

Here you go, your favorite girlish coffee – joked Dean, putting the mug on the table.

It wasn't a regular mug though – it was a special piece of equipment for disabled persons like Sam, who have a problem with movement coordination and gripping things. It has two ear cups and a cap with a mouthpiece, which made drinking without spilling the liquid all over himself possible for Sam, at his better days at least. Today Sam attempted getting just one sip before the eggs were ready, concentrating entirely on the task. But his hands were clumsy and trembling, and he didn't manage to put the mug back on the table – it just flipped from his fingers and landed on the floor.

Dean was there in a second, picking up the mug, looking at Sam in a full mother-hen mode, asking:

Are you burned? The coffee was really hot. Did it spilled out on you?

Nnoo, I'm okay, Dean.

You shure? If it burned you, we have to...

Dean, st-thop. It's okay. I'm fine.

Dean looked at him tenetatively for a few seconds, but not seeing any signs of distress on his brother, he let it go.

Ready to eat? - he asked.

Sam nodded.

Dean put a fresh washcloth over Sam's chest, which was supposed to function as a bib. Sam hated that; but even more he hated being stained and changed six-seven times a day.

You wanna try it by yourself? – suggested Dean.

Yeah.

Sam awkwardly grabbed the fork and started his battle with the dish. Taking a bite on a fork, keeping it on all the way to the mouth and eventually putting it in wasn't an easy task when your arms doesn't really like fulfilling orders anymore. Sam always tried to eat a little by himself, but if he really wanted to eat something, he has to let Dean fed him. Today was no exception; Sam managed to swallow three bites and drop four to the floor in time when Dean ate all of his portion. Sam stopped his struggles and put down the fork on a plate.

Time for help? – asked Dean and took the fork, not really waiting for an answer.

He started slowly feeding his brother and babbling all the time, because it was terrible when they do it in silence, and Dean can't really expect his brother to start a conversation. Dean just wanted to make everything a little easier and more bearable for him, show him that he doesn't give a shit if his brother can eat a breakfast by himself or cannot; the only thing that matters to Dean is that his brother is _here_ , alive and talking. They just finished the eggs and reach the yoghurt, when problems started. Sam began to having trouble swallowing, his salivary glands went nuts and everything that Dean managed to put to his mouth was slowly running down Sam's cheek, making him frustrated and aggravated. He tried to wipe the food from his cheek using his palm, but the only result he got was more mess.

Sammy, it's okay, let me handle this – said Dean in a calming voice, catching Sam's wrists and gently lowering them on the wheelchair armrests. - There's nothing to worry about.

Dean cleaned his brother with a wet tissues and take off the stained washcloth. _If we're talking about breakfast, that's it. It will be a great luck if it at least stays in kid stomach._

Ok, I'm gonna do the dishes, while you can finish your coffee. – said Dean when they finished. –You ok with that?

Sam nodded, but he didn't attempt to grab the coffee.

When the kitchen was clean again, Dean started preparing the morning set of meds for Sam, and God – this was quite a collection. Anti-spasm pills and painkillers; anti-depressant, anti-epilepsy drugs and something for Sam's low blood pressure. Dean handle the meds and a mug with water to his brother. Sam took the pills obediently.

Ok, if you're ready, it's time to brush teeth and get dressed, little brother – said Dean, grabbing the handles of Sam's wheelchair. – Think about what would you like to wear today.

A weak smile was the only answer from Sam.

 **Six months earlier**

Is he gonna wake up? – Dean asked impatiently.

I'm not a human doctor, Dean.

Could you take a guess?!

Ok – probably not – said Cass, his voice full of anger.

Well, don't sugar-coat it! – now Dean was angry too.

I'm sorry Dean, but I've warned you not to put that back inside him…

Then what was I supposed to do?! Let T-1000 walk around, hope he doesn't open fire… - Dean was angry and desperate, his voice shaking.

Let me tell you what his soul felt like, when it touched it – like it've been skinned alive, Dean! If you wanted to kill your brother, you should've done it right!

They stare at each other intensively for a moment, and then, with the whistle of wings, Cass was gone. If he doesn't want to be there when Sammy wakes up and help him get back on his feet, so be it. At the end of the day, the only thing that they have is each other. Dean is gonna be there for his brother, whatever happens. They will figure it out, just like they always do.

Dean approached to the bed and sat on it's edge. Sam was pale, but somehow he looked more peacefully, more relaxed than before. Dean checked his brother's IV – everything looked fine. He took his hands and talked to his brother in soft voice:

You're gonna be ok, Sammy. I promise. Everything is gonna be ok. God, your hands are cold as ice. You know what? I'm gonna get you a blanket.

He went upstairs and took an old checkered blanket, found in a wardrobe. He tucked it closely around his brother.

I will wait here, until you wake up, little brother. I'm not going anywhere.

The whole day passed, and Sam didn't wake up.Dean spent it on a chair next to him, talking, reading to him, encouraging to wake up.

Sam didn't wake up that day. And the next. And next.

By the fourth day, Dean was crazy with worrying. He can keep Sam hydrated by IV's, but everything else was out of his hands. Sam's eyes was already sunken, his face was pale and a weight loss was visible. Dean started considering taking his brother to a hospital, despite the fact that whatever was wrong with him, there is nothing that "casual" medicine can offer them.

 **Present time**

So, any preferences? – Dean was inspecting the interior of their wardrobe.

Sam was quiet.

Ok, I'm calling grey sweats and green flannel then.

Dean took the clothes from the wardrobe and helped his brother put them on, slowly guiding his arms and legs through the sleeves.

So, we're clean, dressed, and after breakfast. I think it's time for a little stupid morning television and physical therapy, right buddy? – said Dean, his voice filled with optimism.

R...Right, Deaaan - confirmed Sam in a flat voice.

Dean manhandled his brother onto the bed, turn on the TV and started massaging his brothers legs and arms, to ease the tension and get rid of the cramps. Once that was done, he started methodically bend and straighten Sam's limbs, make circles with it. The lady on the TV show was explaining how to make a fat-free burger.

Fat-free burger, you hear that, Sammy? How could she even call it a burger? I will never understand that.

S-sssome people care about what they eat – said Sam. – You couldn't refuse their r...rrr-reasons, since cardiovascular diseases are one of the m...m-major causes of death in the S...S-States.

Dean only smiled under the nose, happy that he have managed to pull his brother in a conversation.

Sammy, always such a geek. What about the taste? How a fat-free burger can taste like...?

They continued this casual conversation until Dean have finished the therapy. He inspected his brother for any signs of emerging bedsores – besides Dean's best effort to keep his brother as mobile as possible, Sam still spent plenty of time lying in bed. Helping him change the position every hour surely helps to prevent the formation of bedsores, but didn't guarantee that it would never happen. Doctor Coulbert was very strict about that.

Despite it all, today was a good day. Sam managed to eat half of the dinner, three-quarters of the supper and a whole Nutridrink. He didn't throw up and had only one mild seizure, but with a bathroom-accident.

That is their life now, the new demons and monsters they fight every day – eating, dressing, using the bathroom, trying to survive till the next month.

T.b.c.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

„Look Sammy" said Dean, finishing the dishes next morning. „Somebody is moving into an old O'Neill house."

„Kidding?" - Sam was really not in a mood for his brother's jokes. He wasn't in a mood for anything today really.

"No, I'm serious! There is a car from a moving company, and they started unloading stuff."

"Thh... this house has been a h..hhhovel for yyyrs." - stuttered Sam. - "Nobody would like to live there".

"Ok mister _I-know-better_ " - said Dean, pretending irritation in a funny way. "Let's go outside and see"

He wheeled Sam outside, to the porch, and pointed the car with his finger.

"Convinced?"

"Barely"

"That has to do the job, 'cause we have to get ready and pay dr Coulbert a visit" - reminded Dean, wheeling Sam back inside.

Sam remebered about this appointment very well.

"I dn't like doctors" - he complained. "And hh.h..hospitals, not sure what's more"

A trickle of saliva started running down his cheek, but before he even managed to make a move on wiping it, Dean's hand was there, cleaning it out with a tissue. How did he noticed it so fast?

"Sorry Sammy, but you know the drill" - answered Dean lightly, opening the bathroom door. "Once in a month, a little check-up with doctor Coulbert."

Once they entered the bathroom, Dean started pouring water into the tub and stripping Sam out of his clothes. Sweatshirt, socks, sweatpants, boxers. Then he lifted his brother princess-style and gently placed him in the tub.

"He can't h...hhelp me, you know."

"I know, Sammy" - sighed Dean, stopping washing him for a moment. "But he have to work with what we have. Trying to persist on the surface."

The rest of the bath went on in silence. When the water was gone, Dean drained his brother with a towel, and again, lifted him and seated on a wheelchair. He put a bathrobe on his brother, brush his hair and hairdryed it.

Dean dressed Sam in a clean set of clothes and they were ready to go. He also packed a bottle of water and an additional set of clothes, just in case of emergency. They get in the Impala and headed to the hospital.

 **Six months earlier**

It was late wednesday morning, and their second week in Sioux Falls General. Dean was sitting at his usual place, a chair at his brother's bedside, watching him, talking, stroking his hair, endlessly checking on his IV's, feeding tube, pillows, despite that the nurses were doing their best at taking care of Sam. Dr Liam Coulbert was an experienced neurologist, he has seen many patients and their families, witnessed many happy and sad stories, but he heaven't seen anything like this two before.

They were brothers. They spent their life on the road. They don't have any other family. The younger one didn't wake up one morning; he just slipped in a some kind of coma, but why? Tests results were inconclusive. Is it some kind of a autoimmune disease? Brain inflammation? The CRP level was lowered, but the symptoms... the symptoms were just to serious compared to this level. EEG showed anusual pattern of brain activity. So this disease is connected to the brain... Why doesn't any disease that dr Coulbert know fits this description?

He don't know. For the first time in his entire career, he doesn't have a clue. And now he has to go and tell the older brother, Dean, that he has no idea how to help his brother, his _Sammy_.

Liam was always a good observer and he knew how to talk to people. Who knows, maybe that's the reason why he became a doctor in the first place. He was watching Dean very carefully from the beginnig, since the moment he drove his unconscious brother to the ER. Guy looked like a thug, had a lot of muscles and a knife in his pocket. Liam didn't buy his story about "not waking up" at first, thinking that maybe this two had a fight and this Dean hit his brother in the head one time too much or too strong. But there was no traces of a recent fight or trauma on the patient, Sam, and shortly it turned out that Dean is very caring, overprotective even, about his brother. That's how the greatest mystery of his career began.

In the next days dr Coulbert had a chance to get to know Dean and Sam better. Dean – because he never left the hospital, not even once, he was constantly sitting beside his brother's bed, so Liam had more occasions than he really needed to find out what type of person Dean truly was. Sam – because it was the only thing that Dean was talking about. How brave his brother was, how many people he helped, how many people he saved. He said Sam was a firefighter. "He saved the world, and the world will never know it" told him Dean once, whatever it meant.

"Morning, boys" - greeted dr Coulbert. - "How are you doing today?"

"Morning, doc." - replied Dean, smiling shortly. "We're doing just fine. Sam had his breakfast, there was no traces of blood in overnight urine and the fever is getting better"

By "having breakfast" he meant that he administered the morning portion of Ensure into his brother's feeding tube.

"That's good news" - said Liam, looking at Sam's chart. "It means that meds are working and the infection should be gone soon. Body mass loss also seemed to slow down after the diet change. That's very optimistic"

He run a few routine neuro tests, but there was no change in Sam's reactions.

"Dean" - Liam asked. "Can we talk for a few sec outside?"

"Sure, doc." - said Dean, rising from the chair. "I will be just behind the door Sammy, so don't worry" he whispered to his brother, fixing his blanket for the last time.

When they were outside Sam's room, Liam spoke:

"Mr Winchester, I'm a doctor and a neurologist for over twenty years, but I have to admit that I don't know what your brother is suffering from. I have never seen or hear about anything alike Sam's case. I'm deeply sorry, but I might not be able to help him, despite my best efforts."

Dean's reaction was a surprise for Liam. Most people after hearing something like that about their loved ones would get angry, started undermine his competences, or mourn. Dean didn't do any of that.

"It's okay, doc." - he simply said. "It's not your fault"

 _There is no disease in medical books called "side effects of returning a soul which have been tortured in hell for centuries by Lucifer himself to the body"_ thought Dean bitterly.

Liam got stuck. What is going on?

"So, what we're gonna do, doc?" - asked Dean, when silence between them was prolonging.

"Yes, I'm sorry. You just surprised me with your tranquility. If nothing changes and the kidneys infection is treated, we will have to consider transferring Sam to a facility specialized in taking care of coma patients. There is no point in keeping Sam in a hospital, and the risk of catching another infection is much greater here. I'm sorry, but it's all I can offer to you right now"

"But..." Dean wasn't givig up on his brother. "There is a possibility that Sam will wake up?"

"In Sam's case, everything is possible. There is always a hope, and I assure you, that's a powerful thing."

Dr Coulbert looked at his watch, wished Dean a pleasant day and went to see his other patients. Dean returned to Sam, kissed him on the forehead and started preparing the next portion of Ensure for his brother.

"Sammy, please. Wake up, little brother. We will deal with everything, I promise. I will take care of you. Just open this puppy-dog eyes for me".

Sam didn't respond. Dean filled the syringe with Ensure and fed his brother.

He sat and wait.

 **Present time**

"Ho ho, who do I see? Hello boys, please, let me help" - dr Coulbert greeted them in his office, jumping up from his chair and holding the door for them, so Dean can easily wheel Sam inside.

"How are you? Any changes with the seizures?" doctor asked, before he even take a seat at his desk.

"They happen less often. Yesterday we had only one and it took only about a minute" answered Dean with verve.

"Were you conscious during the fit, Sam?" - this time Liam directed the question straight to Sam. He wanted to give him a chance to speak for himself.

"Yyys, but I wasn't able to control m...myself"

"That's normal during the seizures, Sam. That's just the way they are, and it's common in patients with seizure disorders. There is nothing to be ashamed of"

"I k-know but I was hoping th...that maybe the new meds will help with it"

"Unfortunately no, Sam. Well-chosen drugs can make the episodes less frequent and less intense, shorten their duration, but its nature won't change. You have to be prepared for this circumstance."

"See? I told you Sammy, that's not a big deal" Dean comforted him. "Don't overthink it."

"H-how can I nnot think about that I am wetting myself at least once a day? Sometimes in public?" - Sam was angry and his hands started to shake. _If the kid doesn't calm down, he is gonna have a grand mal right there_ , thought Dean, entering into action. He took Sam's hands and started massaging it with his thumbs.

"It's okay, Sammy, ssshhh. What's the big fuss? About change of clothes? It's not worth it. Cut youself a slack"

"Dean's right, Sam. It's completely understandable for other people, I assure you. Besides, there is a chance that when this new meds reach their full potential, the seizures will became more manageable and accidents will be rare. But, if it is bothering you, try to visit the bathroom more often, so your bladder won't be full when the seizure occurs. That strategy worked for some of my patients. Another solution is an adult diaper, of course, but I don't think you are interested"

All the colour vanished from Sam's face when he heard the "d" word.

"Nnoo. Nnoo way." - stuttered Sam by a tight troat.

"That's what I thought" said doctor politely. - What about appetite? Are you eating more, Sam?

"There are still problems, doc" - Dean cut into the conversation. "Dysphagia is not gonna let it go so easily."

"I see. I wish there was an easy way to help you, but unfortunately there isn't. The most important is to a find a proper texture and thickness of foods and drinks. What have you tried?"

Dean looked confused.

"Normal things doc, like oatmeal, soup, mashed carrot..."

"And what was the easiest thing to swallow, Sam?" Liam was trying to look Sam in the face, but his head was dropped and he was looking only at his knees.

"Cc-carrot, I think."

"And the hardest?"

"I dunno... bread, m-m...maybe. I felt l...like it's gonna gets s-stuck in my th...roat"

"What about water? Does it cause choking?"

"Nnoo, water is fine."

Liam noted everything in Sam's documentation. He really liked this two boys and the fact that there is very little that he can do to help them was killing him. They were still young, still have a life in front of them, and Sam's mysterious disease is gonna take that away, if he didn't find a way to help them.

"Ok, after everything you said, Sam, it seems to me that you two should try more mashed or blended foods than solids, because clearly it will be less problematic to swallow. You need to be careful, Dean, while feeding your brother; there is a serious risk of food aspiration into the respiratory tract and lungs, which can cause a life-thretening pneumonia. Never feed Sam in lying position, only sitting straight, and take small bites on a spoon. This is very important."

"Understood, doc. We will do everything like you said." - replied Dean.

Doctor raised from the chair and said with verve:

"Ok guys, it's time to weigh you, Sam. We will see if you've gained any meat on those bones."

He turned on the floor platfom scale so Sam could be weighted while sitting in his wheelchair. Dean only has to wheel him on a platform.

"Sam, your wheelchair weights about 35 pounds as I recall, so it means that your body mass is only 139 pounds. That's way to little, and you've lost about 3 pounds since our last meeting. This is bad news, Sam. If you keep losing weight, I will not have a choice but put you on the feeding tube again."

"I'm trying" - mumbled Sam, while Dean push him off the platform.

"What can we do, doc?" - asked Dean, helping his brother shifting his position in the chair and fixing his clothes.

"I'm giving you a prescription for a nutrition product with more energy and protein content." - started Liam, already writing down. "Sam has to drink 500 ml daily in two portions per 250 ml and eat at least 3 meals. Everyday physiotherapy is mandatory too." He put the pen down, set his stamp on the prescription and signed it. "Ok, one last thing. I need to check that there isn't any bedsores forming, Sam. Dean, I will help you transfer Sam to the couch. Let's go."

Dean nodded and carefully grasped Sam under his armpits form behind, while Liam grabbed his legs. Together they easily placed Sam on the couch.

"Sam, we have to turn you to the side, so I can take a look at your back" - warned Liam, and with Dean's help he gently turned Sam. He rolled up his shirt and carefully inspected Sam's back, and then asked Dean to lower Sam's sweatpants and briefs so he could take a look on his buttocks and legs.

Dean kept his brother, so he would be stabile during the exam. Then the inspection was finished, he quickly pull up Sam's pants, and together with the doctor they transfer him back to the wheelchair.

"Ok, everything looks good in that matter." - summarized Liam, putting hands on his hips. "That's all form me, boys. Do you have any questions?"

Dean looked at his brother, but Sam just shrugged.

"No doc, everything is clear" assured Dean. "See you next month?"

"Of course. If any problem occurs, don't hesitate to call me. See ya."

"See ya" - replied Dean, and they left Liam's office.

Doctor smiled sadly to himself. He really liked this boys. In this job,you can't really sympathize so much with patients, take it too personal, and Liam always followed this rule. But this two... there was something special about them. Liam wasn't sure what was it.

Polly was slowly unpacking. She doesn't possessed much, so she was done till noon. The house was in really bad shape, but the kitchen was still there and it was working, so she decided to go into town, buy some flour and maybe some fruits and bake a cake. Someone was living in the house next door; the only house next door to be exact. There was a several acres covered in stacked, wrecked cars in front of this house; „Singer Auto Salvage" says the sign. She saw the lights last evening, moving from one room to another. She has neighbors, and she really wanted to make friends with them, whoever they are. So she will bake a cake and pay them a visit this evening.

"Pollyanna Mason, you just started a new life" - she said aloud to herself. "Don't fuck this up, girl."

They were just after the supper, chillin' watching the new episode of _Housewifes_ , when it happened.

Sam was laying on the bed, wrapped in a blanket, lean against the pillows. Dean was laying on the couch, leaning on the sholuder.

Then, the doorbell rang.

They looked at each other, startled. Who can it be? Some old friend of Bobby's? A salesman? What's going on?

Dean discretly looked out the window. It was a girl. Slim, blond hair, nice looking. She was holding something in her arms, but it was covered with aluminum foil. That's suspicious.

"Who's th...at? - asked Sam, alerted.

"I don't know, Sammy" – replied Dean, getting up from the couch and coming to Sam's bed. - "Looks like a girl. Don't make a sound, don't let anybody know that you are here. I'm gonna take care of this."

He took the gun and a knife from the commode. The gun was loaded; it was always loaded with silver bullets. Whatever came to them, it was nothing good.

"Maybe it's just a p-per...son" - implied Sam.

"With Winchester luck? I don't think so." - said Dean, placing the gun behind his back and a knife in his pocket. He turn off the TV and switch off the light. He also passed a silver knife to his brother.

"Remember, you are not here" - reminded Dean and left the room, closing the door behind.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 _"Finally"_ \- Polly thought, hearing the door lock opening. She was nervous. She was fighting with an urge to flee.

" _No, Pollyanna Mason._ " she kept thinking. " _You're staying, and you're gonna make a hell of a good impress, that's what you gonna do._ "

The door opened, but just enough for a host to tilt his head behind the door. It was a male, mid-thirties, sandy hair, soldier-looking. Handsome. She felt something tilting in her guts.

"Hi, I'm Polly, I just moved next door" - she said quickly. - "I just thought it would be nice to introduce myself, since we became neighbors" - she continnued, felling worse and worse under this strange man eye.

The man was quiet for several seconds, just lustrating her from head to toe. She smilied faintly.

Then all of a sudden, the man opened the door and introduced himself.

"Dean." - he said, inviting her in. "It's nice to meet you."

She stepped inside. The house was quite old, maintained in dark colours. There were books lying everywhere in piles; in evey shelf, every corner, even on the stairs steps. Polly never saw so many books in a single home. The smell of this house was also strange; it should have smelled like old books and dust, with a hint of wood, but instead it smelled like a hospital. " _Is this guy a doctor of something?"_ Polly wondered.

" _Ok, so she is not a demon_ " - analyzed Dean, seeing that the girl stepped freely out of the devil's trap hidden under the doormat.

"I've brought some cake" - she broke the silence, since they were standing in the hall, just looking at themselves. It was really awkward.

"Let's sit in the kitchen" - said Dean, realizing that whatever she was, she is not gonna let it go easily.

This guy, Dean, showed her a chair, so she put the cake on the table and sit. The man filled the kettle with water from a jug that he just pull out of the cabinet and turn on the heating. _Who keeps water in a jug and hide it in a cabinet? -_ she thought _._ This whole visit was getting stranger and stranger every minute.

"Tea?" - asked the man, not meeting her gaze.

"Yes, I would love some" - she aswered, determined to make a good impression.

Water was slowly boiling and this time it was the man who broke the silence:

"So, you are the one that moved into an old O'Neill house?"

"Yes" - Polly answered immediatly. "I just bought the house. Who was this O'Neill?"

The man smiled mysteriously.

"Jonah 'thick foot' O'Neill" - he replied. - "He was a tough son of a bitch, and a hell of a drunkard."

"Oh." - said Polly, not knowing what to answer.

Silence fell once again.

"So, Dean" started Polly this time. "How long have you been living there, in Sioux Falls?"

"Me?" - he answered the question with a question, looking somewhere over the window. "I grew up there."

"Oh, that's so nice" - she started babbling. - "I just moved in from Georgia. I wanted to go as far as I could from my ex-husband, I guess. This was the only house that I can afford, the divorce costs a lot... Anyways, I'm quite handy so I should be able to do most of the repairs myself..."

" _Oh God, I'm just talking nonsense_..." she thought, stopping her speech middle-sentence. " _Put yourself together, girl"_ she ordered herself, but the way this Dean was looking at her was... disturbing. He was watching her very closely, followed her every move, he even reacted when she moved her feet under the table.

The water finally boiled and Dean prepared two cups of tea. He put a silver teaspoon in one cup and put it in front of her.

"You need sugar?" - he asked her.

"No, I'm not sweetening"

Dean sat down in a chair in front of her and took a sip of tea.

"So, you living alone?" - he asked, looking at the window again.

"That's right" - she smiled. "You?"

"Nah. I'm living with my brother."

"Oh, then I hope I will have a chance to meet him soon!" - she replied, maybe a little to enthusiastic.

"Sure." - he simply said, but his voice was completely neutral.

Polly took the teaspoon out of her cup and tried the tea. It was one of the cheapest kinds, with bitter aftertaste and no aroma. Dean was clearly interested when she was doing that; after she took a sip he seemed to relax, and the conversation became much more lighter. She even made him laugh once.

After about twenty minutes she finished her tea and said goodbye. Dean walked her to the door and wished her goodnight. He locked the door immidietly after she left.

The visit was strange, but could have been worse. There was something mysterious about this Dean; he is not an ordinary person, but not in a negative meaning - Polly was shure of it.

She also felt like she would like to get to know him better.

SPNSPNSPN

Dean locked the door and walk back to the living room, relieved that this unfamilliar girl finally went out. He had more important things to do than chatting and drinking tea – like prepare a evening set of meds for his brother, or make _him_ a tea.

"You okay, Sammy?" - asked Dean, approaching to the bed.

Sam just nodded.

"You need anything?" - Dean sit at the edge of Sam's bed and looked at him, checking if he is okay.

Sam shook his head.

"Maybe we will shift you a little." - suggested Dean and rearranged his brother's hips and legs on the bed. Sam managed to do the same with his arms, barely.

They watched TV until Sam felt sleepy. Dean helped him to brush his teeth and changed him into his pyjamas. Then he went to bed too. Usually he fell asleep quickly, but today Dean caught himself on thinking about that girl, Polly. Is she just a friendly person, tryin' to find her own place in this world? Hair around her face were curly and when she was smiling, her dimples became visible. No, she clearly wasn't Dean's type; why is he thinking abut her? _Nonsense_ – thought Dean, just before he fell asleep.

 **Three days later**

"So far so good, right Sammy?" - asked Dean, carefully moving the razor up his brother's neck. "Not a single cut yet. I'm getting better at this" Dean smiled, continuing shaving his brother. They were halfway finished, when the doorbell rang.

They looked at each other.

"Must be Polly again" - said Dean, straightening up. "Wait here, I will just find out what's going on."

"You know, it's not l-like I'm gonna go sm...smwhere" - remarked Sam, giving him a bitchface.

"Oh no, don't give that face" - joked Dean, drying his hands with a towel. "I will be right back, bitch."

And he left the bathroom, leaving Sam half-shaved, half-covered in shaving cream.

"You can introduce me one day, j-jerk!" - Sam shouted after him, but got no answer. He wasn't really angry. He just wished Dean stops being so overprotective all the time.

He heard the door creaking open and a female voice. It was Polly indeed; somehow she sounded nervous and relieved at the same time. Sam was wondering how she looks like. Dean didn't told him a thing after her first visit. Sam didn't have anything better to do, so he tried to overhear their conversation.

SPNSPNSPN

"Oh Dean, it's so good that I find you home!" - said Polly immediately after she saw Dean standing in the doorway. "I have to ask you for help, I don't know what to do, I don't know how did it get into my house, I..."

"Polly, stop!" - ordered Dean, hunter's instincts highwired. "Calm down. What happened?"

"There is a bat in my house" - panted Polly. "I was in the attic, trying to clean up some things. It jumped at me from nowhere, it must have been hiding somewhere in the mess... I'm terribly afraid of bats. They freak me up. I can't share a house with one of them" - she was embarrassted, but what else she could do? Move out? She doesn't know anybody else in town, and clearly she won't be able to manage the situation alone. Dean was her only hope.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. _A bat. Just a little, ordinary bat._

"Okay." - he simply said. "Just give me a minute"

"Oh, thank you so much!" - said Polly, feeling (and sounding) truly saved.

Dean went back inside, leaving her on the porch. He didn't invite her in, so she waited outside.

SPNSPNSPN

"Sammy, you okay?" - asked Dean, entering the bathroom. "It's Polly, she has a bat inside her home and she's frightened. She asked me for help."

"G..go." - answered Sam immedietly.

"I will, but first I have to finish here" - replied Dean, taking the razor again.

They finished the shaving, and Dean wheeled Sam into the living room, turn on the TV and asked:

"You'll be okay for a few minutes?"

"Yeah. Go."

"Okay. Call me if you need me, and I will be here in a second."

"Yy...sss, j-jerk."

"Okay." - said Dean again, patting Sam on his knee for reassuring. Then he left.

Sam stayed alone with his thoughts. _Nothing good ever happens in our life, but maybe this Polly girl will be a good thing for a change_ – Sam wondered. _She seems nice. It would be good for Dean to spent time with someone else than me. Tear him away from worrying._ He wanted that for his brother with all his heart.

Suddenly he got the feeling that his throat is squeezed and he can't swallow. _Great. An attack of the saliva is coming._ \- he thought bitterly. _So, I'm just gonna sit here and slaver like a retard, until Dean comes back and clean me up_. Doctor Coulbert is convinced that his problems with swallowing and saliving is a result of his mysterious nervous system disease, and not much can be done about that. Sam agrees. Not much can be done about that.

So he just sat in his wheelchair, looking at the TV screen, but not really watching, feeling the wetness travelling from the corner of his mouth down his cheek and to his t-shirt, hoping that saliva would be the only thing that escaped his body uncontrollably today.

 **Six months earlier**

Dean was distraught. Another week in hospital has passed and there was no change in Sam's condition. Doctor Coulbert began to put pressure on Dean to choose the facility for his brother further care; he gave Dean a few leaflets, but heaven't find the strength to look at them. He was waiting for his brother to wake up, to take him home, not to abandon him in a hospice or something like that. He won't do that; he can't entrust his brother's wellbeing to a group of strangers who didn't know anything about him, about _them_.

Dean made up his mind. He is going to take Sam home, awake or not.

He will learn everything; how to exercise his muscles, hook on and hook off the machinery, sponge-bath him, change his clothes. Hell, he knew most of it already – he was replacing nurses in Sam's care were he can – he knew that Sam would preffer him doing the bath, the feeding, the diaper change. It's not like he heaven't done that before – he managed to take care of his half-year old brother when he was four, so he can as well do it now.

So, when that particular afternoon dr Coulbert visited them and asked Dean once again about his decision, his answer was ready.

In the same particular afternoon Sam started to show the first signs of waking up.

SPNSPNSPN

"Okay, so the plan is: you stay here, I'm going to the attic and deal with his bloodthirsty monster." - joked Dean, when they entered the house.

"Ha ha, very funny." - replied Polly, rolling her eyes, but smiling.

Dean has to admit, that she did a great job in restoring the old hovel. She painted the walls, fixed the wooden floor and completely renovated old kitchen cabinets, so now they were looking really vintage. She wasn't braging; she was really handy. Dean would never recognized the old Thick-foot den.

"Wow, very cosy place" - Dean appraised her work.

"Thank you" - Polly said, blushing. "Entrance to the attic it there" - she pointed her finger on the hatch in the ceiling.

Dean opened the hatch, pull the ladder and climb up. There was a lot of dust and lumber, Thick-foot belongings. A lof of places for a bat to hide.

Dean took an old tennis racket from a pile of things and started to rumble everything with it, hoping to scare the bat out of his hide. He opened the roof windows and keep on making noise.

He didn't have to wait long; the bat showed up soon enough. Dean keep on methodically guiding it with a racket to the windows, and after just a moment, the house was once again bats-free.

" _Job done_ " - thought Dean, going downstairs.

Polly was in the kitchen, prepairing two cups of tea. She was clearly nervous – it's funny that people can be this scared because of a _bat_. Dean have seen so many kinds of evil and monstrosity in his life that he really doubted that he can be scared by anything.

" _Well, I might not be the best example of a normal person_ " he thought bitterly.

"Is it gone?" - asked Polly, almost dropping the kettle to the floor, anxious.

"Yeah" - Dean assured her. "There is nothing to fear."

"Thank you!" - Polly jumped from joy and relief. "Thank you so much! Please, sit, the tea is ready and I should have some chocolate cookies somewhere here..."

She started to tear the contents of one of the cabinets, desperately wanting to repay him somehow.

"No, Polly, I can't stay. Please, don't bother. See you later" - Dean stopped her. He needs to go back to Sammy, check on him.

"Why? Please stay, just for a tea." - asked Polly. "It will take five minutes, tops."

Dean was torn. He really liked Polly and being around her felt good. But Sammy needed him; he might be thirsty or needed to go to the bathroom, or have an attack. He can't stay.

"I would like to, but I really can't. I have to go back to my brother. Sorry."

"Oh, call him! I would be delighted to meet him. C'mon, call him."

Dean realised that Polly is not gonna let it go lightly. Or maybe he wanted to stay? No, nonsense. Dean's priorities are clear. Sammy is his first and only priority.

"It's not that simple. I have to go. Bye, Polly." - said Dean and left the house.

Polly just stood in the kitchen with two mugs of hot tea. She was grateful that Dean helped her and get rid of the bat, but she can't understood why he didn't wanted to stay for a few minutes.

"Well, maybe he really had something to do." - Polly said to herself. "There is nothing wrong with you, Pollyanna Mason."

And tired to believe that, just like everyday.

SPNSPNSPN

"Sammy, I'm back!" - shouted Dean from the door, not even taking his shoes off, but went straight to his brother.

Sam was struggling. His hands were fisted and trembling, and he sounded like he was choking. Dean felt like his blood freezed in a second. He was by his brother side in a blink of an eye.

"Whoa, calm down, calm down" - said Dean in a peacefull voice, gasping Sam's fists and gently lowering it on his knees. "I'm here. I'm sorry I was out for so long. I'm so sorry. It will never happen again, I promise. I'm sorry, Sammy. It's all my fault. Can you breathe? Breathe with me, in and out."

Sam's eyes were fixed on Dean, but his body was trembling and Dean was afraid that he is gonna have a seizure. His blouse was wet from saliva escaping his mouth.

"In and out Sammy, in and out" - Dean started massaging his brother's knees, trying to calm him down. He took a cloth and wiped his brother's face and neck.

They managed to hold back the seizure. Dean changed his brother into a fresh blouse, and squizzed him in a tight embrance.

"Did yyyy...you help h-her? - asked Sam, always worrying about someone else.

"I did, Sammy" - assured him Dean. "But it was just a bat, you didn't miss anything. You wanna lie down for a bit?"

Sam nodded. Dean gently scooped and placed him on the bed and throw a blanket over him.

"So, what are we gonna do today?" - Dean asked, removing a hair from Sam's forehead. - "What would you like?"

 _Die_ – thought Sam, but instead he says:

"W-will you ...ply... ply.. the g-guitar?"

Dean chuckled.

"Sure, Sammy. I'm glad you asked."

Dean was always good with the guitar, but never really had time to practice. Now he has all the time in the world, and Sammy liked that. He is always so peaceful when Dean plays.

And he played.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Polly never considered herself as an inquisitive person; on the contrary, she was never interested in other people lifes, gossiping, making judgments and comments. But, to her own surprise, she caught herself on observing Dean's house every morning, while drinking her coffee. His black, vintage car was always parked in the same spot. She coudn't see Dean's porch from her kitchen windows, but she has got an impression that he almost never leaves the house. Isn't he working somewhere? Where is his mysterious brother, if he really exists? They have an auto-salvage on their property. Why don't they do anything with it?

So many questions, zero answers. Why is she even interested? Maybe because she liked Dean almost immedietly. There is something odd about him, yes, something mysterious, hidden. Whatever it is, it's working like a magnet on her.

She finished her coffee, washed the cup and sat behind her desk. It's time to work. She still has a good three weeks till deadline, but she really liked this project. Drawing mermaids, fairies and princesses all day long was good for her stressed mind, and she was really pleased with effects. She perfectly captured the climate of the old fairytales, colours were beautiful and intensive, characters full of charm. The dragon was majestic and ominous. Publisher should be pleased.

 _"Nice work, girl"_ thought Polly.

SPNSPNSPN

"We've got two things to do today, Sammy." - announced Dean. "We need to buy some groceries and collect meds from the drug store. Cindy called that they have them already. Maybe we will check what's new in the park afterwards? What do you think?"

Sam didn't answer. His mouth was full with gruel, which Dean was feeding him for breakfast. He coudn't make it down. His esophagus just stopped answering.

He didn't felt angry or agitated. God, he is just so fucking tired.

 _It was worth it_ – he tells himself, like a mantra. _You saved people. Saved the world. It was worth this._

"Sammy, did you swallow?" - asked Dean, watching him carefully with his green, concerned (always concerned) eyes.

Sam shook his head.

"Wanna spit it out?"

Nod.

"Okay, I will get the Oppa."

Oppa was their nickname for a emesis basin, named after a really nasty nurse from doctor Coulbert's ward. She had an atheroma on her face and was always in a bad mood. But she was an inspiration for Dean's stupid jokes, which sometimes made Sam smile during their hospital days.

"Here." - said Dean, holding the utensil under Sam's chin. "Okay, it's okay, little brother."

When they were done with the Oppa, Sam tried to sip some water, and managed to swallow the liquid. And again. And again.

"Good job, Sammy!" - said Dean, a little too enthusiastic. "We will try with the gruel again, okay? Just baby steps."

And they tried, with very, very small bites, until the bowl was empty. It only took an eternity.

"That's it, Sammy. We will take that as a win. Hope it stays in you, little brother, right?"

Sam remained silent.

"Okay, time to get ready and hit the road, am I right, kiddo? What's first, toilet or toothbrush?" - asked Dean, with his usual cheer and grin. "Hm?"

 _Hit the road_ – thought Sam. When was it? Surely not in this life. Somewhere in another life, a long time ago. "Toilet" - said Sam quietly.

"Toilet it is" said Dean, and wheeled Sam out of the kitchen.

SPNSPNSPN

And there she was again, a non- inquisitive girl with a second cup of coffee in her hands, staring at her neighbour house. She really wanted to know something, anything more about Dean's life. Maybe he is a criminal, and he is just trying to lay low? Oh, that would be scary. Or is he on a secret military mission? He definietly looks like a military.

Her mind was just spinning around more and more unbelievable Dean's life scenarios, when it happened.

She saw a movement around his house.

It was Dean. He was wearing the same kind of checkered flannel he wore when they first met, and he was pushing something ahead, but she didn't recognize it at the first sight.

Oh, God. Now she sees it. It's a wheelchair. He's pushing someone in a wheelchair.

Polly was just standing in her kitchen window, hypnotized. The person in a wheelchair was male, somewhere in his late twenties. He looked overdressed – it was still something like fifty-nine degrees outside, but he was wearing a warm jacket and a beanie on himself, and his legs were covered with a blanket. They approached the car, Dean opened the passenger door, positioned the wheelchair close and carrefully lifted the other man into the seat. Fasten his seatbelt for him and after a short words, he took off his beanie. Then he fold the wheelchair, put it in the tunk, jump into the driver seat and started the engine. They left.

It took her a while, but she got it. His brother. The person in a wheelchair must be his brother.

Polly immidietly felt a wave of warmth around her heart. So that's the reason Dean didn't wanted to stay for a tea? Or why his house smelled like a hospital? That's so sad he didn't say anything! His brother must be very sick, and he is taking care of him... Oh, God. So he is not a criminal, not a military, not a secret agent nor a mobster... She definietly would not suspect that. The truth surprises us every time we discover it. She felt even bigger urge to get closer to the brothers.

 **Six months earlier**

"Good morning boys, I've heard some big news from nurse Patty." - said dr Coulbert, entering Sam's room. Dean was there, a watchmen beside his brother's bed. A happy grin on his face confirmed his conviction that indeed there is some good news.

"Sammy recognized me and call me by name yesterday evening." - recounted Dean, excited. "Also he started eating. He ate three spoons of apple sauce this morning!"

"That is very good Dean." - answered Liam, starting the neurological exam on Sam. "Sam? How are you feeling today?"

Sam's eyes met the doctor face for a moment, when Liam called him. That never happened before. This is a big change.

"Sam? Can you tell me your brother's name?" - asked the doctor.

The patient gaze was fixed on him, but nothing else happened.

"C'mon Sammy, tell the doctor my name, I know you remember." - encouraged older brother, taking Sam's hand and rubbing it gently with his thumb. "Just like you called me yesterday."

Sam's gaze wandered once again to Dean and then it happened.

"D'n" - Sam's voice was barely audible, but he said that.

"That's right, Sammy!" - encouraged Dean. "Can you tell me your name, little brother?"

"D'n."

"Yeah, that's me, little brother, thats me. And you? Can you tell me _your_ name?"

After a moment of silence, Sam's voice became audible:

"S'm"

Dean melted, and tears he was holding back for so long roll down his cheeks.

SPNSPNSPN

Sam was making a little step forward every day – he was more coherent, started smiling back at Dean, and he was eating more, so doctor Coulbert decided that NG tube can be taken out. Dean was going crazy with happiness, and was encouraging Sam every step on the way. One day after the diaper change Sam refused to be dressed in a new one, and for Dean it was one of the clearest signs that he is getting his stubborn little brother back.

"No no nooo..." - protested Sam, when Dean get a fresh diaper from the package.

"What's a no, Sammy?" - asked Dean, because he didn't understood him at first. He mindlessly attempted to put the diaper on his brother.

"NOOOOOO! NOOO!" - screamed Sam, and despite his limited mobility, he tried to get Dean's hands and the diaper off himself.

"What's goin' on, man?" - asked Dean, concerned. "Why are you so upset? Hmm?Sammy?"

"No... no diaper" - stammered Sam, looking straight into Dean's eyes.

"Oh. Oh! That's... great Sammy, that's really great! Wow! I will call nurse Patty, okay? Cause we have to ask her if we can do that. We will do that anyway, don't worry, but we have to keep up apperarances, you know?" Dean pressed the call button, smiling like an idiot, but he was so freaking happy. His little brother was starting to be himself again.

"You called?" - nurse Patty appeared in the doorway.

"Yes, I did. My brother just told me that he don't need diapers anymore and I just wanted to ask you if it is okay to take it off."

"You did, Sam?" - nurse Patty asked Sam directly, looking at him with a warm smile. Sam just looked at her. He was less open to nurses than he was to Dean, and he was having more trouble speaking to them. But finally he whispered "ye" which was the affirmative.

"That's great news, Sam. If you feel ready, then I say we can try. I will bring you the bedpan and show you how to assist Sam with it, Dean. Sam, remember that you will have to tell us when you need to use it."

"Thanks, Patty." - said Dean. "You're amazing."

She just gave them another smile and left the room.

SPNSPNSPN

One thing about Sam didn't seem to improve – his paralysis. It wasn't full – Sam could move his head without a problem, but his hands and palms were stiff and cramped. The situation was the worst with his legs – Sam coudn't move them at all. His feet were constantly cold. And, the more aware Sam was becoming, the more frustrated he was getting. He couldn't dress himself, feed himself, even brush his own teeth. Or go to the toilet.

And that was just the beginning, so it seems.

Just a few days after their first conversation with dr Coulbert about Sam's release, he had his first seizure. A grand-mal seizure, with every possible aftermath of it: convulsions, bitten tongue, loss of bladder and bowel control, headache. So, instead of release and going home, he got more exams, more check-ups. It all concluded nothing; the cause of Sam's symptoms remained unknown to the doctors. He experienced more seizures in the following days, all of them violent. Dean was freaked out; he experienced deeply every one of his little brother's seizures. Dr Coulbert started him on anti-seizures meds, but it needed time to reach it's full potential; Sam was exhausted. Being in a hospital for weeks now made him depressed. All he was hearing was: "Turn over, good boy, he took his meds nicely, he has no appetite, cover him with a blanket, yeah we've slept a little..." It was all like a bad dream. He didn't wanted to live. He was just so tired... Even keeping his eyes open was to much effort. Everything was too much.

So, they started him on antidepressants also and sent him home. They wasn't able to help him anyway, not for this disease anyway.


End file.
